


still alive but i’m bearly breathing

by thessalonike (starblessed)



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Bad Puns, Build-A-Bear Workshop, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, M/M, Possession, Stuffed Toys, Teddy Bears, The Author Feels Shame So You Don't Have To
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 11:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/thessalonike
Summary: So, Julie's got a possessed teddy bear.“It was just a flash of light, like a lava lamp exploded, and then,whoomph —“Reggie mimes what, presumably, is a person getting sucked into a stuffed animal’s body. It involves a lot of flailing, a weird mermaid wiggle, and a moonwalk. “Alex was a bear.”CAN WE PLEASE STOP SAYING THAT, sings Alex — or Bearlex — into his plush microphone, with his tiny robotic voice. The sound box inside of the bear isn’t designed for speaking, only warbling… so every time Alex has something to say, he sounds like robot Freddie Mercury attempting karaoke. ALEX IS NOT A BEAR. ALEX IS INSIDE A BEAR. IT’S DIFFERENT.“Yeah, man, it soundsworse.”
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 85





	still alive but i’m bearly breathing

**Author's Note:**

> what can i say?? midterms week is a hell of a drug
> 
> ( this fic goes out to Redrikki, who commented on my [alex learns to fly fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29761743) that i keep finding new, exciting ways to torture him. “keep it up,” you said. do you regret it yet. do you. )

Honestly, if she hadn’t been zoning out on her history essay long enough for her eyes to wander, Julie might’ve never noticed anything was wrong at all.

As it is, she spots it instantly. Her gaze is drawn straight to the innocuous gap on her bookshelf — the place usually filled, instead of a glaring hole of emptiness between her flower vase and necklace tower. In a second, Julie’s sitting upright; in the next, she's vaulted off her bed, already sprinting down the hallway.

_“Mocoso!”_

Carlos’s door is half-ajar, so it’s not _bursting in,_ really — never mind how the door rattles on its frame when she barrels through. Sure enough, Julie catches her brother red-handed. Carlos is standing at the foot of his bed, holding his looted treasure up by its neck, giving it a good shake.

“What are you doing to Beary Mercury?” Julie thunders.

Carlos, staring mortal danger in the face, scrambles backwards like his life is on the line. It is. The stuffed bear almost slips from his hands; he doesn’t have time to drop it, however, before Julie snatches it away. Immediately, her attention is diverted from her idiot brother to straightening out her poor, abused friend. His little microphone is twisted; his shirt’s bunched up around his middle, distorting the _Don’t Stop Me Now!_ slogan emblazoned in neon letters across it. He’s kind of soggy, like someone sprinkled water on him, and smells a little like smoke. Worst of all, the moustache Julie made and stitched on herself has come half-undone, hanging by a few lopsided threads.

Beary Mercury has been _going through it._

Julie lifts her head, primal rage in her eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Carlos, to his credit, knows how to grovel like a champ. He clearly doesn’t want to die today — but he should have thought of that before he went into Julie’s room, snatched her bear off her shelves, and _tortured him_. “I wasn’t trying to ruin your bear, I promise!”

“Why do you _have it?_ ”

“I found this really cool ritual online!” As Julie lunges forward, Carlos scrambles backwards over his bed, landing safely on the other side. He snatches up a rumpled sheet of paper from his disaster zone of a desk, waving it for Julie’s inspection. “It’s a ghost binding spell, see? If there are any spirits lurking around, you can take an inanimate object and trap their souls in it!”

If Julie had a single shred of faith in Carlos’s ghost hunting adventures — which have been going on for over a month now, and still haven’t uncovered the _three actual ghosts_ living in their house — she might be worried. As it is, this just drives her more feral.

“So you took my bear — my _one-of-a-kind_ Build-A-Birthday-Bear that I’ve had since I was eight — and decided, _yeah, let’s totally put a ghost in it?”_

Carlos flails. “Well, I couldn’t use my action figures!”

_“Why not?”_

“They’re in the middle of something right now.” He gestures to the incomprehensible mess that’s supposed to be his rec table — scattered with Legos, action figures, and jenga structures Carlos has clearly designed himself. It looks like some kind of epic battle was going on; Julie can’t discern a winner, and really doesn’t care.

She pulls Beary Mercury to her chest, glowering.

“But hey, hey, here’s the really cool part!” Carlos waves his ritual in the air, triumphant. “It worked!”

“Sure it did,” she mutters, trying to smooth down his moustache.

“No, really! I went out to Mom’s studio, and I stood right in the middle of a cold spot, and I read the ritual out loud, and I —“

“Don’t want to hear it!” she sing-songs, already on her way out the door. Any longer in the disaster zone of Carlos’s room, and she’s sure she’ll never find her way back out — but Julie has time to halt in the doorway, swinging her head back inside just long enough to glare at him. “And _stay_ out of my room!”

She makes her way back down the hall, clutching Beary Mercury to her chest. The poor little guy’s had a rough day. After not having left her shelf in a solid three years (save the special occasions, when Julie really needs a hug) he must be shell shocked. She murmurs soothing nonsense to him as they make their way back to her room. By the time they’re safe, with the door shut behind them, she’s got her friend mostly straightened out.

“I’ll have to fix your moustache, once I get out the sewing kit,” she muses. “But first, I have to kill Carlos… hmm. Honestly, you could probably use a wash, buddy. Are you dry-clean safe?”

There’s a question for Google. Her eyes flicker towards her laptop for a second, before Julie sighs, shaking her head. “It’s okay for now,” she murmurs, setting the bear back in his empty, familiar seat. “There you go. Safe and sound.”

For a minute, she just stares at the little guy. A smile tugs at her lips at the memories he conjures — a Mom-and-Julie day out at the mall, going through the whole Build-A-Bear process, taking goofy photos and posing with the beard they created — because of course Mom made one too, and hers looked just like David Bowie. She doesn’t have much use for stuffed animals anymore, but Beary Mercury has too much significance behind him to end up in the Goodwill heap. He’ll always remind her of her mom, of one perfect, happy birthday… just looking at him makes Julie feel like she’s being enveloped in a warm blanket, every single time.

On a whim, she reaches out, giving his paw a squeeze. She expects the familiar sing-song tune to chime from his voice box.

Beary Mercury sings out, alright — but it’s not the music she expected.

In a staticky, melodious monotone, the little bear chimes, over and over, like it’s stuck on a loop.

_HELP ME._

_HELP ME._

_HELP. ME._

* * *

Julie loses her mind, because, of course. She’s got a possessed bear.

“What are we going to _do?”_

Luke and Reggie, to their credit, look exactly as freaked out about this as she is. Two out of three guys are accounted for in-person; the wildcard hasn’t gone far, though, if the stuffed animal sitting alone on the couch is any proof.

“Well, if we knew that, we’d have tried it already!” says Luke. “As soon as he got sucked into the doll, we were like, oh man, _that’s_ probably not good —“

“It was just this big flash of light, like a lava lamp exploded, and then, _whoomph_ —“ Reggie mimes what, presumably, is a person getting sucked into a stuffed animal’s body. It involves a lot of flailing, a weird mermaid wiggle, and a moonwalk. “Alex was a bear.”

CAN WE PLEASE STOP SAYING THAT, sings Alex — or Bearlex — into his plush microphone, with his tiny robotic voice. The sound box inside of the bear isn’t designed for speaking, only warbling… so every time Alex has something to say, he sounds like robot Freddie Mercury attempting karaoke. ALEX IS NOT A BEAR. ALEX IS INSIDE A BEAR. IT’S DIFFERENT.

“Yeah, man, it sounds _worse_.” Luke takes another step back from the toy, giving it a wider berth than he would an actual bear. 

I AM NOT HAVING A GOOD TIME, Bearlex assures him.

Reggie takes a step closer — he's the braver ghost than Luke, though that’s really not saying much. Half of Reggie’s brazenness seems to be a desire to poke the bear, just to see if he’ll move on his own. “We thought he’d show up, y’know? At some point. Like, no offense, dude, but —“ Closer. Closer. “Getting stuck in a bear body is weird, even for our standards!”

He gives the bear a sharp poke, and quickly retracts his hand. It doesn’t move. Reggie almost looks disappointed. 

WHEN IT HAPPENS TO YOU, says Bearlex, YOU’LL BE VERY OFFENDED.

“It’s never _gonna_ happen to me, because I don’t stand close to people reading spooky rituals out loud,” Reggie retorts, and gives the bear a bold knock on the head. “Logic!”

The bear falls over.

Reggie yelps, leaping back from the couch. Luke falls through the piano.

“Oh, for god’s—“ With a huff, Julie steps forward, propping the bear back up again. It’s beady black eyes glitter at her, as if in thanks; she offers it a tiny, sympathetic smile.

Which isn’t to say this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to her. It _absolutely_ is, and that includes three ghosts falling out of the sky into her mom’s studio. Somehow, a haunted bear — a possessed bear, the soul of one of her best friends trapped inside — is on another level. Julie was definitely freaking out when she ran down here screaming, holding the bear with Alex’s voice at arm’s length. In every crisis, though, there’s got to be one person with their head on their shoulders… and since Alex’s head is currently full of stuffing, it must be her.

“It’s okay, Alex,” she says, giving him a sympathetic pat on the head. “We’re going to take care of this.”

SEE, says the bear, WHEN YOU SAY IT, I ACTUALLY BELIEVE YOU.

He may not have the ability to intone — or make facial expressions — but the compliment warms her nonetheless.

Sure, they’ll take care of this. Julie’s got it under control.

The only question is… how?

* * *

“Something about this seems like a bad idea,” Luke says. “And that’s coming from me.”

Usually, their band is a firm democracy. Everybody has a voice, everybody’s opinion matters, and if someone doesn’t like something, it’s taken into serious consideration. Not tonight. Tonight, Rome is burning, and democracy is dead. It’s almost midnight. They’ve been trying to coax Alex’s spirit out of the bear for _three hours_ now. Julie has never been more tired, or more frustrated, in her life.

Her head snaps towards Luke, like a scene straight from _The Exorcist._ “Do you have any better ideas?” she demands. He takes a wise step back. “Didn’t think so. No more arguing…” Standing up, she claps both hands against her thighs, and steps back. “We’re drowning the bear.”

DOES THE BEAR GET A SAY IN THIS AT ALL, asks Bearlex from inside the washing machine.

“Nope!” replies Julie, and slams the door shut.

She’d feel a lot worse if they were actually putting Alex through the wringer — but, from what they’ve gathered over the past few hours (of increasingly creative experiments), he’s not actually… in there. He can’t feel the bear’s body; he can’t turn its head or lift a paw. While he sees out of its eyes and speaks with its voice, he can’t actually do anything. He’s just _connected_ to it, his soul buried deep down under layers of stuffing. Like getting a shot of Novocaine just before having a cavity filled, Julie supposes — your mouth is numb, and you can’t feel it the way you should, but you _know_ your jaw is still there. Alex is still there, he’s just…

Well, he’s in bear somewhere.

They’ve just got to figure out how to get him _out_.

“This just feels _wrong,”_ Luke confesses, staring through the window at the sad little stuffed toy. He presses one hand against the glass; Bearlex stares back at him, button eyes unblinking. “Feels like… we’re knocking him over the head and throwing him in a swimming pool or something.”

“Aww, Luke.” Reggie throws an arm around his friend’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Don’t worry! We can’t drown if we’re already dead.”

Julie would rather not test the theory. But if there’s a chance, even the smallest chance, that they can wash the ghost out of her bear…

Or waterboard the ghost out of him. Whatever works, really.

“You guys are _so_ lucky this little guy’s dry-clean friendly,” she declares, dropping a detergent pod in the hatch.

Bearlex’s tinny voice echoes from inside the machine — too muffled to hear, but she’s almost sure he doesn’t appreciate being called a “little guy”.

With a grim smile, Julie presses the start button, and cuts Bearlex off with a spin cycle.

* * *

Waterboarding the haunted bear — as with every other idea they came up with before — doesn’t work. They end up slumped on the studio floor in a defeated heap, while Bearlex air-dries by the window. Every so often, one of the boys pipes up with something, and is just as promptly shut down. (“Salt?” “No.” “Fire?” “ _Absolutely_ not.”)

I FEEL SOGGY IN PLACES I DIDN’T KNOW EXISTED, Bearlex declares, more than once. TIDE PODS TASTE DISGUSTING, GUYS.

The next morning, Julie calls in the big guns.

Flynn, to her credit, has had all the materials for an exorcism on lock ever since learning about the ghosts — “Just in case!” she reasoned, when Julie side-eyed her newfound love of sage. She’s been ready since Day One. Her best friend rocks up to Julie’s house half an hour after the 9-1-1 text with a duffel pack slung over her shoulder, wearing a full black-and-red velvet suit, knee-high combat boots, and a hat. Exorcism chic has never looked so good.

“Where is he?” Flynn declares, holding up a cross the size of Luke’s guitar. “Let me at him.”

“Other way, sweetie.” Julie spins Flynn by the shoulders, course-correcting her before she can jab the cross right through Luke. (Somehow, this doesn’t feel like a mistake.) When she points to the sad little bear propped up on the couch, Flynn’s eyes widen.

“Oh. Beary Mercury’s seen better days.”

“He’s going through a rough patch,” Julie confirms. “His solo album phase.”

“Tragic.” Flynn takes exactly six seconds to sympathize before lunging forward, cross extended like a gladiator’s shield. “And now, ghost! Prepare to leave your corporeal form!”

ACTUALLY, I WAS A LOT MORE CORPOREAL BEFORE, Bearlex muses. LIKE. I SOMETIMES WALKED THROUGH WALLS, BUT AT LEAST I COULD WALK. AND TOUCHING THINGS? WOW. MISS THAT.

A few seconds pass before the cross slips from Flynn’s hands.

“Julie,” she whispers hoarsely. “You didn’t say he could talk.”

“Didn’t I?” Julie barely slept last night. She’s surprised her early morning bat signal was even coherent, let alone what details she included in the text.

“You did not adequately prepare me for how freaking weird this is.”

YOU’RE WEIRDED OUT? TRY HAVING YOUR SOUL FUNNELED INTO A STUFFED ANIMAL BY A TWELVE YEAR OLD READING A POEM HE FOUND ON THE GOOGLE.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Flynn shudders.

WOULD YOU BELIEVE I’M ITCHY? LITERALLY. I CAN'T FEEL MY OWN BODY, BUT MY NOSE ITCHES, AND I CAN'T EVEN SCRATCH IT, BECAUSE I HAVE PAWS FOR HANDS.

“Paws filled with love,” Julie contributes. Slowly, Flynn scoops the crucifix off the ground, leans forward, and gives the bear’s plastic nose a gentle scratch.

THANKS, says Bearlex. THAT FEELS BETTER.

“No problem,” Flynn replies, not taking her eyes off the bear; then, in a very poor stage-whisper, “Julie, get my holy water.”

It’s a long afternoon. Flynn can’t pronounce Latin; the loft fire alarm doesn’t like burning sage; and Alex’s soul is more stubborn than your run-of-the-mill demon, because at the end of it, he’s still bear-shaped.

SHOULD I GET USED TO THIS? he asks, staring up at Julie with his dead, sparkly-glitter eyes. SHOULD YOU BE LOOKING ONLINE TO FIND ME A TINY STUFFED DRUMKIT? CAN WE AT LEAST FIND A BEAR FANNY PACK? 

With a sigh, Julie reaches out, laying a hand atop Bearlex’s fuzzy head.

“Desperate times,” she declares, “call for desperate measures.”

* * *

Things don’t actually get poltergeist-y until they’re in the car, on the way to a closed art museum, and Bearlex connects the dots.

NO. IF YOU DO THIS, I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU.

His little bear head spins a full 180 degrees in Julie’s lap.

"Gah!"

The car swerves, and Flynn shoots her a poisonous look. Julie gestures helplessly down at the bear. Suddenly, the radio goes haywire, exploding in a cacophony of static; firmly, Flynn slams it off, and refocuses her eyes on the road.

“Pea soup better not be next,” she warns. "I just got this car cleaned."

I WILL LITERALLY NEVER FORGIVE YOU. HOW WILL I LIVE THIS DOWN?

“Good news is, you don't have to.”

THIS IS CRUEL AND UNUSUAL, Bearlex declares. HE'S GOING TO THINK I'M _WEIRD._

“Your skater boy thought a closed art museum would be a fun first date. He’s weird enough on his own. Not to mention the whole ghost thing, which, like —“

“A solid three on the Creep-o-meter by default,” Julie confirms, while Flynn nods enthusiastically. Bearlex — his head still on backwards — gapes up at her with his expressionless eyes and sewed-on mouth.

SO YOU’RE BOTH EVIL.

“Not called Double Trouble for nothing. Plus, we’ve both put too much time and effort into getting you out of Julie’s bear to give up at this point,” Flynn corrects, long nails drumming against the steering wheel. “Exorcism sage isn’t cheap, and I just wasted thirty dollars of it on you.”

SORRY ABOUT THAT.

“All will be forgiven, if you just get out of the toy.”

AT THIS POINT… I ALMOST CAN'T _BEAR_ TO LEAVE. His tinny robot voice is quiet for a minute, before singing out, GET IT? BECAUSE —

“Yeah.” Julie gives him a placating squeeze. “We got it.”

OKAY, NOT MY MOST _KOALA-TY_ JOKE. I CAN DO BETTER. MAYBE _PANDA_ TO MY AUDIENCE A BIT MORE?

Julie groans. “I’d rather he was just running around with a knife like Bear Chucky.”

DON'T WANT TO CAUSE ANY _GRIZZLY_ SCENES.

“I’m going to throw you out the window if you don’t stop,” warns Flynn.

YEP, OKAY, says Bearlex, and is quiet for the rest of the ride.

It might be a battle strategy, actually. When they spot what looks like a skateboard zooming on its own through the empty art museum foyer, Bearlex is suspiciously lifeless. Julie gives him a shake, but he does nothing, not even complain. When Flynn hammers on the museum's glass doors, the skateboard skids to a stop. 

It takes a minute of focus before Julie is able to see him — Willie. Or really, the _outline_ of him, a poorly-rendered hologram with the vague definition of facial features and clothes. Willie is illuminated to Julie’s eyes, not through any connection with her soul, but whatever connection Alex has with his. Like a cosmic game of telephone. Julie can’t see what Alex sees as clearly as _he’s_ able to… but Willie is still real for her. As he phases through the door to greet them, she's able to look him in the eye and smile.

“Hi, Willie! Great to see you again.”

“Uhh, yeah.” Even his voice is an echo. “Great to… see you too? Still super weird to be seen by a lifer, but — uhh. Why do you have a bear dressed like Freddie Mercury? And why does he look so miserable?”

“You recognized Freddie!” chirps Julie, inordinately delighted. Even with the sloppy hanging moustache, she _knew_ she did a good job putting him together.

“Oooh, Alex, we approve,” Flynn declares, reaching over to squeeze the bear’s hand.

Willie’s eyes bug out. “Alex?”

The bear says nothing. Julie gives him a more insistent shake.

“Surprise!” she chimes, holding him up like a trophy. “It’s Alex!”

“It’s Alex,” confirms Flynn.

Beary Mercury, for better or worse, keeps his mouth shut. Face screwing up in frustration, Julie does something impulsive, and definitely a little unkind —- she seizes hold of the tiny stitched heart on his paw, attached to the voice box, and _squeezes_.

Immediately, a voice that barely sound like Alex at all — try a very poor impression of Freddie Mercury done by a depressed robot — chimes out. _I want to break free… I want to break free…_

Followed by Alex’s tinny voice bursting through the speaker. HEY. CUT THAT OUT. I DRAW THE LINE AT BEING FORCED TO DO IMPRESSIONS.

“ _That’s_ your line?” says Flynn.

HONESTLY, I SHOULD HAVE DRAWN IT ABOUT TWENTY-FOUR HOURS AGO. BUT IT'S, UHH… HARD TO DRAW ANYTHING WITH PAWS.

“Alex,” Willie echoes, sounding choked.

When Julie’s head shots up, she finds Willie frozen — his eyes very wide, his face very red, and his cheeks deflated like he’s a few seconds away from exploding. His shoulders tremble.

OKAY. GETTING LAUGHED AT, says Bearlex _THAT’S_ WHERE I DRAW THE LINE.

Willie bursts out cackling.

* * *

Luckily, Willie has been a ghost long enough to have seen a variety of bizarre things, including his share of haunted objects. He doesn’t know any cool exorcism rituals — Flynn visibly deflates — but he does generously take the bear off Julie’s hands. 

“I’ll take care of this. Just — just give me a minute.”

Sure enough, when Julie’s bear rematerializes outside the museum five minutes later, something about him is different. He’s lighter, somehow, than before; no longer does a strange overexcess of energy seem to weigh it down, making Julie feel antsy just holding him. No longer do his eyes look quite so… lifelike, and his head has corrected itself to the proper non-broken neck angle.

Willie even sewed his moustache back on. Bonus points.

“Uhh… Alex?” Julie broaches, tentative, lifting the bear up for inspection. Flynn immediately zeroes in — close enough that she’s nose-to-nose, staring straight into its button-eyed soul.

“Yep,” she confirms after a minute. “No Alex in there.”

Julie gives the bear’s paws a tentative squeeze. The chorus of Killer Queen rings out in a robotic, completely Alex-free trill.

Finally, Julie’s able to exhale, and hug her bear to her chest for dear life. “Oh, thank god, Beary Mercury’s back! Oh, buddy, I missed you so much! I’m sorry we waterboarded you, and threw you off the balcony, and that Flynn yelled at you in Latin…”

When she looks up to thank Alex and Willie, though, the museum stands empty.

* * *

“I think we need a better name for you than Hot Dog.”

“Willie, _please…”_ Alex’s voice is muffled, from where his face is still buried in the soft fabric of Willie’s croptop. He hasn’t moved for a solid fifteen minutes. Not that Willie minds — the best part about being ghosts is they hardly ever have anywhere else to be, and the view from the pier is gorgeous this time of the afternoon. He could sit here with Alex for hours, if that’s what’s needed.

“I’m still recovering.” Alex murmurs the words directly into his chest. “I might spend the rest of my afterlife recovering. I was inside a _bear.”_

“Not even a real bear! A tiny, fuzzy one. Stuffed with _love_.”

“Don’t,” Alex grumbles again. What little Willie can see of his face is scrunched in dismay, his cheeks still red. Calloused fingers flex around the hem of Willie’s shirt — he’s still getting used to having opposable hands. Willie gives his hair a placating pat, relishing its silkiness under his fingers.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed!”

“And yet.” 

“There is nothing embarrassing about accidentally being trapped in an object. It happens to ghosts all the time!” He pauses. “Caleb once shoved a guy’s soul into a salt shaker and just _left him_ there. I’m pretty sure he still hasn’t gotten out. Guests hear screaming every time they season their filet mignon.”

“Ohh-kay. I don’t need more fuel for my nightmares tonight, thanks.”

“Like, seventy percent of old dolls are haunted.” Alex finally lifts his head, blinking up at him. “I’m saying! It’s a really common thing!”

“Willie,” Alex finally says; reaching up, his finger finds Willie’s lips, and stays there. “Shh.”

Willie shushes. Together, they watch the waves lap at the dock, an unceasing, steady rhythm, for what feels like hours. 

When Alex finally speaks up again, it almost startled Willie from his thoughts. “How did you know what to do?”

“Huh?” Willie blinks, then smiles. “Oh. I didn’t.”

Alex tilts his head in his lap.

“Just ‘cause I’ve seen it doesn’t mean I knew how to undo it. I was literally operating on fairy tale logic and the overwhelming thought of ‘oh my god, this is the weirdest, cutest thing ever’.”

“It wasn’t c—“ Alex starts, but Willie cuts him off by kissing him again.

He doesn’t retrieve Alex’s soul from the abyss of Build-A-Bear Workshop this time, but Willie would still call it a damn good kiss nonetheless. Alex’s lips part, Willie’s mouth impulsively seeking out the taste of his; his hand knots in Alex’s hair, Alex’s chest heaving slightly beneath him. When a tiny growl escapes Alex’s throat, however, Willie has to break away to laugh.

Alex looks harassed. “What?”

“You — you just —“ Willie snickers. “What can I say, man? You’re so cute, it’s… un _bear_ able.”

Alex almost tackles them both off the pier, and, yeah, Willie deserves it.

**Author's Note:**

> so am I kicked out of the fandom yet???
> 
> (Find me on tumblr at [reggieshairflip](https://reggieshairflip.tumblr.com/)!)


End file.
